


A Simple Suggestion

by tucuxi



Series: Through the looking-glass: Naruto genderswap!AU [13]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tucuxi/pseuds/tucuxi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agreeing to be a surrogate mother was the <i>easy</i> part.  Getting to know Kakashi and Tenzo ... that's a little more difficult.  And then Tsunade makes a helpful suggestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Suggestion

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [](http://illereyn.livejournal.com/profile)[**illereyn**](http://illereyn.livejournal.com/) for a fantastic, fast beta-ing job. Directly follows [An Unusual Alternative](http://tucuxi.livejournal.com/25061.html) and may not make sense without it. Part of a [series of AU!genderswap fic featuring Kakashi and Iruka](http://archiveofourown.org/series/6842).

Kakashi drops by the Academy a few days after they had dinner at Iruka’s house and asks her to come spar, which just about makes Iruka fall over in surprise.

“But!” she protests, “I’m not — what use is that for you, Kakashi-sensei?”

Kakashi looks a little confused, as if not wanting to spar is incomprehensible.

“It’s decent training,” she says, “and it’s fun.” She cocks her head to one side and looks at Iruka. “Oh,” she says, “right. No Sharingan, no genjutsu, no S-level techniques, and we’ll tweak from there. That sound okay?”

Iruka feels a little bit like she’s dreaming when she agrees. Part of her objects strenuously to the handicap, but Iruka does the same things for her classes all the time, so she knows it’s not pity, it’s pragmatism: it’ll do neither of them any good if Kakashi outmatches her in the first moment.

To her surprise, it’s a good match: Iruka knows Kakashi could wipe the floor with her if she wanted to, but the limits she set on herself mean that they’re almost - just _almost_ even. Iruka knows that Kakashi is holding back more than she said aloud -- Kakashi can hold her own against _Guy-sensei_ in a taijutsu match, so there’s no way Iruka is really pressing her that hard. Still, Iruka isn’t all that upset when Kakashi pins her within a few minutes. Kakashi grins down at her: Iruka realizes she can _tell_ , even with Kakashi’s mask.

“Gotcha,” Kakashi says, “your side-step is too slow.”

Iruka pulls, but Kakashi has too firm a grip on her wrists for her to break free that way. Kakashi is almost plastered across Iruka’s front, holding her down, and the ground is a little damp still from last night’s rain.  
“You’re not getting away that easily,” Kakashi chides her, mock-severely.

Iruka laughs, and then moves just slightly sideways in a move she’s pretty sure Kakashi hasn’t seen before. When Kakashi tries to stabilize herself, instinctively putting some weight on the hand holding Iruka’s wrists to hold her down, Iruka takes advantage of the motion to angle her hips to one side, unbalancing Kakashi’s weight across her torso. After that, it’s the work of instants to twist free, to pull herself around with chakra, and flip them over in the same movement.

Kakashi looks up at with something like shock in her eye. “Where did you learn _that_?” she breathes.

“Well,” Iruka says, sitting back so Kakashi can get up, “I sort of figured it out on my own.” Kakashi tips her head to one side, seemingly content to stay on the ground. “It only really works the first time, though,” Iruka continues, “because if you don’t shift your weight forwards in response, it’s hard to get enough momentum to start the flip.” She pauses. “And, it only works the first time on most people. Though I dated a guy for a while who never figured it out.” _And a good thing for me, too_ , Iruka remembers, _since he never did really figure out the word “No,” either._ She shakes her head, and glances down at Kakashi, who has a thoughtful expression on her face.

When Iruka meets her eyes, Kakashi grins wide and brings her hands together faster than Iruka can grab them: in a poof, the two of them have switched places, and Iruka laughs out loud at the surprise of it.

They get in another couple of rounds before it starts to get dark and Iruka remembers just how much work is waiting for her at home.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and is a little surprised that she actually _is_ sorry to leave, “but I’ve got a stack of reports waiting for me at home, and they still won’t write themselves.”

Kakashi blinks. “What about dinner?” she asks, and Iruka realizes that, yes, she really is hungry. Pulling something together from the wreckage of her fridge won’t cut it tonight.

“I’ll grab something on the way home,” Iruka says, hoping Kakashi won’t think she’s too irresponsible: she knows you have to be more careful than this during pregnancy. Iruka has already started taking pre-natal vitamins, and stopped eating raw sushi, but she balances her time pretty carefully, and she really hadn’t planned on a couple of hours of sparring today.

“How about —” Kakashi suggests, and she looks a little less certain of herself -- Iruka realizes that she finds this _endearing_ , and blinks. “How about this,” Kakashi continues, “I made you late, so I’ll cook dinner for you. That way you don’t have to worry about cleaning up, either.”

Iruka could point out that there’s not really much clean-up if you bring home a container of ramen, but she stops herself. Instead, she nods, and Kakashi’s smile in response is a tentative, beautiful thing.

* * *

It turns out Kakashi’s a pretty good cook. She drops by school the next afternoon, when Iruka is hoping to do nothing more than go home and have a long, hot bath, and drags Iruka to the practice grounds again. Iruka grumbles a little bit, but not too much, and she is a little less sore afterwards.

It’s almost a week later when Iruka finally manages to trap Kakashi again, leveraging her slightly greater weight to hold Kakashi down, hands pinned at her sides.

“Hah.” Iruka hasn’t had that much fun sparring in a while: so much of her training is done alone, these days, or else it assumes that anyone she’s dealing with will be a pre-genin more likely to skewer her by accident than by design. Kakashi stands up and shakes herself off: there are leaves and a few twigs stuck in her hair.

“Here,” Iruka says, reaching around, “let me get those.” Kakashi stands very, very still when Iruka reaches around to grab a leaf. “Um,” Iruka says, walking around behind Kakashi, “I could pull them out one at a time, but it might be faster to try to shake them out?”

“No,” Kakashi says, “they won’t shake out.” Iruka reaches out and cards the fingers of one hand through Kakashi’s hair, which is surprisingly wiry. The twigs and whole leaves come out easily enough, but the smaller leaf bits are more tenacious.

“It’s fine,” Kakashi says, “they’ll come out eventually.” Iruka frowns.

“Just let me—“ she starts, and cards her fingers through Kakashi’s hair, from where her hitae-ate is tied at the nape of her neck up to the crown of Kakashi’s head, dislodging leaf fragments and dirt and a couple of very small sticks. Iruka drops her hands to Kakashi’s shoulders to brush odds and ends from her vest. One second she’s clapping her hands on Kakashi’s shoulders; the next Iruka is pinned flat on her back with Kakashi’s arm across her throat and Kakashi staring at her, wide-eyed. As Iruka stares, a little dazed, Kakashi flushes; then she pulls back and offers Iruka a tentative hand up. Iruka gets up on her own, rubbing at the back of her head — the ground might _look_ soft, but there are plenty of rocks and roots under the ground-cover, and it looks like Iruka just found a few the hard way. Kakashi drops her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, “I, um. I don’t do well with people grabbing my shoulders.”

“Okay,” Iruka says, a little startled by the whole situation, “um, all right.” It’s an unsettling reminder of Kakashi’s rank: Iruka would never grab at Asuma-sensei or Tsubaki-san like that. She’s grown comfortable with Kakashi, she realizes, and has stopped being as careful as she ought to be around a jounin.

“I’m sorry,” Iruka says, after a momentary silence, during which Kakashi looks more and more anxious, “I shouldn’t have --” This is where another person might wave off her apology, tell her there’s no harm done. Kakashi just nods, and Iruka finds that she’s actually pleased by that response: Kakashi won’t lie to her, not even to be polite.

“Um,” Iruka asks, “is there anything else I should -- or shouldn’t -- do?” Kakashi looks momentarily surprised. She shakes her head.

“Just the usual.” Iruka nods, and they go another round, which Kakashi handily wins: Iruka finds she doesn’t really mind. When they go their separate ways that evening, Iruka realizes she’s looking forward to seeing Kakashi again tomorrow.

* * *

Iruka walks into the Hokage’s office a week or so later, and just keeps herself from stopping dead: there’s a masked ANBU standing before the Hokage’s desk, right next to Kakashi, who is apparently back from her latest mission. Shizune slips behind her and shuts the door, brushing against Iruka -- a silent suggestion that she come all the way into the room.

“Iruka-sensei,” Tsunade greets her, “please take a seat.” There are three chairs lined up in front of Tsunade’s large desk. Iruka hasn’t been in this room very much since Tsunade finished getting the Sandaime’s files and possessions sorted out: where it used to be nearly empty it’s started to accumulate the clutter of a busy office. It looks like Tsunade has more tolerance for _stuff_ than the Sandaime did.

Tsunade waves a hand: Kakashi and the ANBU sit. Iruka is slightly relieved to see that Kakashi takes the center seat: Iruka doesn’t feel quite up to sitting next to a masked stranger during this discussion. (Somehow, she realizes, Kakashi no longer falls in that category.)

“All right,” Tsunade says, once the three of them are seated and Shizune is standing behind her as usual. “We’re all here because Kakashi’s a stubborn brat and refuses to just retire and have babies — for which,” and she shoots Kakashi a glance that is simultaneously teasing and fond, “I, personally, am quite glad.” Kakashi relaxes just slightly, and Iruka bumps shoulders with her.

“Iruka-sensei has agreed to be the surrogate mother, and asked to be involved with care-taking and parenting. Tenzo …” and here Tsunade makes an exasperated face at the ANBU. “Take off the mask, Tenzo. Given what you’re signing up to get into together, I think Iruka deserves to know what you look like.” Iruka’s eyes widen as he lifts a hand to detach the cat-face mask, revealing regular features and a hitae-ate reminiscent of the Nidaime’s monument: she knows him. He led the first A-rank mission Iruka ever went on, though she’d not known his mask before. He doesn’t smile now, not exactly, but she knows he’s friendly enough, and efficient when there’s work to be done.

“Tenzo,” Tsunade continues, “has agreed to father a child, and has likewise expressed interest in continuing involvement. I suggest the three of you spend some time together before anything gets underway: the Council may not care if you like each other, but I’d much rather the three of you not end up at each others’ throats.”

 _As if that would matter,_ Iruka thinks, because she knows exactly where she stands relative to Kakashi and anyone in ANBU. Shizune coughs, and Tsunade waves a hand at her.

“We can discuss the more pedestrian details later,” Tsunade says, completely ignoring Shizune’s glare. And like that, they’re dismissed.

* * *

Iruka leaves the Hokage’s office feeling a bit like she’s just been handed a new mission, and she supposes that in a way she has: get to know these two (probably intensely private) people. Then have kids. It makes her head spin a little bit. She’s got a bit of a head start on Kakashi, but she doesn’t feel that she knows this man -- Tenzo? -- at all, even if they have met before.

“Well,” Kakashi says, as they leave the building, “that was interesting. Who wants dinner?” Iruka nods, and the three of them walk into town in silence. Iruka tries to think of something to talk about, but you can’t really ask ANBU whether their recent missions were interesting, or whether their family was well (and if Iruka remembers correctly, Tenzo has just about as much family as she does, now that the Sandaime’s dead.)

“How long have you two known each other?” she asks instead. Surely that’s a vague enough question that it’s answerable even if one of them was in ANBU at the time. (And surely Kakashi wouldn’t choose a total stranger to father her child?)

“Hm,” Kakashi says, “what was it, nine years ago?” Tenzo nods.

“Just about. Though we crossed paths a few times before that during the war.” Kakashi pulls a face.

“Only when they were trying to keep me _out of trouble_ ,” she mutters, and Tenzo laughs.

“Oh, yes,” he says dryly, “god forbid they put a nine-year-old girl with the reconstruction teams for a few weeks.” And then Iruka stops dead, because Kakashi punches him, just below his ribs, and he reels backwards before lunging for her and getting her in a headlock.

“Take that back,” she says, though Iruka can’t see why on earth Kakashi thinks she’s in a position to make demands — until she sees where Kakashi’s knees are. Tenzo doesn’t loosen up his grip, but he does sigh.

“Okay, okay,” he concedes, “you were _ten_.”

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” she hisses, and Iruka laughs out loud, because it’s like watching herself a dozen years ago, determined to get Izumo or Hayate to concede a point. No wonder her neighbors had thought she was a hooligan.

“I’m sorry,” she says, when she realizes that the two of them are staring at her in surprise. “It’s just that I used to do this all the time: I’ve never really seen it from the outside before.” Kakashi grins; Tenzo lets go of her and looks a bit embarrassed. He stands a little stiffly, as if trying to re-gain lost dignity.

“No,” Iruka says, “I don’t mind -- I mean --” there isn’t really a polite way of saying _thank god you’re a person under all that armor_ so she just sort of trails off. Kakashi coughs, and Iruka turns to her.

“Reconstruction teams?” she asks, because Kakashi hasn’t ever really mentioned what she did during the war: Iruka was in school the whole time.

Kakashi nods stiffly.

“They were _safer_ ,” she said, and her voice was harsh. “I was absolutely no help in reconstruction: too small to carry things, too few jutsu to help with anything except field healing, really.” She scowls, and Iruka glances at Tenzo, who shrugs. Surely if he’d been there as well there had to have been something for child chuunin to do?

“I almost didn’t make my quota,” Kakashi says, sounding almost petulant. A chill runs down Iruka’s spine.

“Quota?” she wishes that hadn’t come out sounding quite so tentative.

“Kills,” Kakashi says plainly. “All the four-person teams had an unofficial quota, a total, and one for each member, but they didn’t give me one. So I asked my team leader what his quota was, and adopted it.” Iruka wishes she hadn’t asked. Of course Kakashi was fighting, while Iruka was learning basic jutsu and making a fool of herself for attention. And Tenzo was -- she shakes her head a little -- of course he was in the reconstruction end of things, with his wood jutsu. Even if he didn’t have perfect control of it, it would certainly have been better than nothing. Iruka feels a little stupid, and a lot slow. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, but it is an unwelcome one.

“So, um, Tenzo-san,” she starts, glancing at Kakashi, “what kinds of food do you like?” It’s a terrible, obvious way to change the conversation, but she can’t think of a better at the moment. And she really doesn’t want them to ask her what she was doing then, because while she _knows_ that there’s nothing wrong with having been too young to fight, there is something wrong with being too unskilled, and she’d rather they not think about this too hard, realize just how very far she is from their level.

* * *

They stop at a barbeque place Iruka’s been to a handful of times.

“Asuma complains about this place _all the time_ ,” Kakashi says with satisfaction. “How about it?”

“Wait,” Iruka says, after a moment of pure confusion, “--you don’t mean he takes his _team_ here?” Tenzo looks at the two of them curiously as Iruka laughs a little bit.

“He has the next Ino-Shika-Cho team,” Kakashi explains, and Tenzo’s expression clears into something like sympathy.

“And he brings them here?” Tenzo asks, something like wonder in his voice. “Damn, the man’s generous.”

“Or stupid,” Kakashi adds under her breath, and then glances over at Iruka as if she’s suddenly worried about something.

“Well?” Iruka asks, after they’ve all stood there for a slightly awkward, silent moment, “shall we?”

They get shown to a booth and Iruka is secretly a little pleased when Kakashi sits next to her, the two of them facing Tenzo. She’s started to get to know Kakashi a little bit, but the prospect of sitting across from the two of them is a bit daunting: she thinks it would feel like a job interview gone horribly wrong, or like being forced to stand in front of the mission desk for ages while someone sized her up.

There’s a bit of confusion when someone comes to take their order, until Iruka pokes Kakashi in the side and tells her to make up her mind already; when the server leaves, Kakashi pulls a wounded face and ostentatiously rubs at her ribs, surprising a laugh from Iruka.

But dinner goes well enough: contrary to all of Iruka’s fears, they do have enough in common to talk about, though she suspects Tenzo gets a bit lost when she and Kakashi swap authors, and Kakashi seems to tune out a bit when Iruka and Tenzo talk about local hot springs. Things don’t really get awkward until the bill arrives. Iruka is a bit surprised by that, actually: she’d expected to split everything three ways, the way she does when she goes out with friends. Instead none of them reach for it, and Iruka busies herself with her last piece of beef, trying to figure out what’s going on without being too obvious about it.

Kakashi shoots Tenzo a _look_ , and raises her eyebrow.

“Oh, no,” he says, “that’s not how it works. Isn’t the sempai supposed to pick up the tab?” Kakashi makes a face at him. (Iruka’s not entirely certain how she can tell, under the mask, but she’s pretty sure she can.)

“Are you telling me you’re the kind of guy who takes a lady out for dinner and then makes _her_ pay?” she asks, and Iruka blinks, surprised to hear such a sweet, dangerous tone of voice from Kakashi: she never seems to play by the rules, so hearing her use what Iruka privately thinks of as the honeyed voice is a bit jarring.

Tenzo laughs. “If I saw any ladies here—“ he starts, and then he glances at Iruka and flushes. “I’m sorry,” he says, as if he expects her to be offended. “I’ll just—“ and he reaches for it at the same time as Kakashi. Their hands bump, and they freeze. Iruka blinks in realization. _Is_ that _what it’s all about?_ she wonders, and then looks at Kakashi and Tenzo, almost glaring at each other over the check.

“Oh, for —“ Iruka darts in and grabs it, opening the folder and glancing down at the total. “Either we can split it three ways,” she says, “or one of you can pick up the next time we go out. Which do you prefer?”

They both blink at her before smiling in relief, practically in unison. Iruka smiles back. That wasn’t so bad.

* * *

Iruka doesn’t expect to see Kakashi the next day, but when she gets home there are two pairs of sandals lined up by the door that are definitely not hers. She freezes, and then Kakashi’s voice floats out from the living room.

“It’s us!” Iruka lets out a breath she wasn’t entirely aware she was holding, and takes off her sandals. She leaves her vest on, though: she may be home, but she’s clearly not alone.

When she walks into the living room, Kakashi is sitting on the floor in front of Tenzo, who looks like he was in the middle of giving her a back rub. Kakashi looks up and gives a little wave before tipping her head back and staring at Tenzo.

“Hey,” she says, “you’re not off the hook yet!” He nods, and pulls a rather dramatic face at Iruka over Kakashi’s head before going back to work on her shoulders. It’s a strangely familiar kind of scene. Iruka realizes it reminds her a little of her parents, of coming home to find the two of them sitting in here talking, or in the kitchen making dinner. Of course, it had never been a _surprise_ to find her parents at home, and she definitely hadn’t been expecting this at all.

“Hi,” she says, a little lamely. “How’d you get in?” It’s kind of a stupid question: undoubtedly they could disable any of her alarms, probably without even thinking about it. But Tenzo makes a face, and Kakashi grins.

“Through the floor.” She pats the boards she’s sitting on, looking almost gleeful, and Tenzo scowls down at her.

“Oh,” Iruka says, and remembers Tenzo’s singular jutsu. “Next time,” she says, a little more sharply than she intended, “perhaps you could you try the door, or if that’s too much of a stretch, a _window_?”

It’s not that she distrusts Tenzo’s control of the wood jutsu, exactly, but she doesn’t like the idea of her parents’ house being altered without her knowledge. Kakashi looks up as Tenzo’s hands pause.

“Hey,” Kakashi says, and she stands up. “Iruka--” Tenzo looks a bit abashed, and Iruka feels the need to justify herself..

“I -- don’t like the house to change much.” It’s absurd, but Iruka feels simultaneously ashamed of herself and angry at them. Kakashi nods, and walks forwards to take her hands and draw her into the room.

“Come on,” she says, “Tenzo gives amazing back rubs.” She settles Iruka where she’d been sitting, and plops down on the couch next to him, sprawling out like a cat and taking up far more space than she should be able to. Tenzo puts his hands on the shoulders of Iruka’s vest, silently asking permission, and she shrugs it off. He does give good back rubs, Iruka has to admit, and she gradually relaxes into his touch, letting herself put aside the various worries of the day.

“Iruka,” Kakashi says, “I thought I might cook?” Iruka looks up. She’s let her eyes drift shut, and she didn’t notice when Tenzo’s hands stopped moving, just resting warm on her shoulders: from the feel of it, he’s concentrated just a little bit of chakra in them, helping relieve some of the deeper tension. Iruka is vaguely impressed: she knows what kind of control that takes.

“Um, sure,” Iruka says, standing up. “I’ll just show you where things are again, it’s not very organized.” Or, well, it _is_ organized, but not intuitively, and there are cabinets full of things Iruka only touches when she’s cleaning particularly thoroughly that she doesn’t really want Kakashi poking through, even if she has cooked here before a couple of times. There are two bags of groceries sitting in a corner in the kitchen, and Iruka swallows another spike of irrational indignation: what right does Kakashi have to go through Iruka’s house like she lives here?

Instead she smiles politely. “What will you be making?” she asks, and when Kakashi tells her, Iruka points out the necessary pots and pans. She shows Tenzo where the dishes are, and has him set the kitchen table. It’s a petty thing to do, to have her guests do the work, to have them all eat in here instead of out in the more formal room where she and Kakashi have eaten whenever she’s had Kakashi over, but Iruka’s annoyed at them for dropping in unannounced. She very briefly entertains the idea of starting to do some of her grading, but she’s not _that_ mad at them, and she definitely doesn’t know them well enough for it to be anything other than very rude, no matter how much of it she has to get through.

Once the table is set, Tenzo simply sits down: he seems to have the same gift Kakashi has, of being able to sit perfectly still and unoccupied without looking impatient. Actually, Iruka concedes, he may be better at it than Kakashi is, since she almost always has a book open, even if she’s not always reading it. For her part, Iruka hovers and helps Kakashi. There’s a slightly awkward silence, except when Kakashi asks her to do something, but then, Iruka thinks, maybe she’s just too used to chatter: she’s rarely around people who are content to be quiet, which Kakashi and Tenzo apparently are.

Finally dinner is ready: a simple enough meal, Kakashi calls it, but Iruka suspects the soup stock is home-made: she’s never found dashi this good in a Konoha store. Iruka bites her lip, and decides not to mention it. But when Tenzo tastes it his eyebrows shoot up, and he takes another sip quickly; Iruka can’t help but notice that Kakashi seems pleased.

“It’s very good,” Iruka says, “how did you learn how to cook?” It’s a paltry topic for conversation, but she doesn’t want to sit silently through the whole meal. Iruka’s parents always spoke with her over dinner, no matter how tired they were: it was the one time of day they were all usually home.

“Some of it I copied,” Kakashi says, gesturing toward her left eye. “But most of it I figured out the hard way.” Iruka nods. “You don’t have to look so surprised,” Kakashi says wryly, shooting an amused glance at Tenzo. “Cooking is a lot easier than most jutsu, after all.”

“Oh -- no!” Iruka is surprised to see some color rise into his cheeks. “It’s not that -- it’s just a bit of -- you never seem to care about what you eat on missions.” Kakashi grins and Iruka feels obscurely relieved to find something Tenzo doesn’t know about Kakashi: it makes her feel a little less like an interloper between the two of them, as odd as that might seem. It’s a relief to know that Tenzo and Kakashi will be learning about each other as well as getting to know her.

“Why would I cook on a mission?” Kakashi asks reasonably, “it only gives away your location, and carrying fresh ingredients is a pain.”

Iruka laughs, and that seems to break the ice a little bit: at the very least, they are able to carry a reasonable conversation for the rest of the meal. By the time they leave, Iruka has almost forgotten to be irritated with them for showing up uninvited and unannounced. She does, however, make plans to see them the next day at the gates of the Academy, so it doesn’t happen again.

* * *

The next day is a bit of a nightmare. Iruka had to stay up a little later than usual to keep up with her prep after Tenzo and Kakashi left, and the kids seem to catch on to her tiredness just after lunch. After that keeping them in line is an exercise in frustration.

“You’re being taught to lie, cheat and kill people,” she says bluntly, when Konohamaru protests that making them run an unknown obstacle course next week is unfair. “What makes you think anything is _fair_?”

“But!” Konohamaru protests, “your last class got a diagram! Naruto said so!” There’s an outbreak of muttering.

“Naruto probably forgot to mention that they only had a diagram because one of them was clever enough to steal it from my desk,” Iruka says tartly. “And before you go looking, I don’t have a diagram for this year in my desk. It’s all up here.” She taps her temple.

Someone sputters and she can just tell several of them are about to protest.

“Too bad,” she says, cutting them off. “You think the people you face on missions are going to be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice? Things change.”

Several students protest, and while Iruka knows exactly how they feel, she’s sick and tired of this: and it really isn’t up for discussion.

“All right,” she says, voice stern enough to cut through the whispering and muttering at the back of the classroom. “Since you all seem so concerned, we won’t do the obstacle course next week.” Several kids cheer, but Iruka notices that Hanabi and Konohamaru both look suspicious. She gives them a brief moment, and then says: “You’ll be running it tomorrow, instead.”

The classroom explodes with protests, and Iruka fights the urge to sit down and bang her head on her desk. It’s a long afternoon.

* * *

When she meets Tenzo and Kakashi at the Academy’s door, Iruka is already feeling tired. And despite all the time she put in last night to work out the week’s schedule, she’ll have to go home and revise it now that she’s told the kids the obstacle course is tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I have to work tonight.” Kakashi blinks; Tenzo doesn’t seem to react at all.

“I didn’t think I’d have to,” she says, “but I just moved the obstacle course to tomorrow, instead of next week.” Iruka wasn’t going to complain, but it seems she can’t help herself: she hears herself continue: “They complained that having to run it without being given a diagram first wasn’t _fair_.” Kakashi’s eye gleams, and she whispers something in Tenzo’s ear.

“Is this the old obstacle course, or the new one?” he asks, and Iruka shakes her head. The new one is all plastic and metal, slippery in the rain and hot in the sun, and some teachers like it, but if Iruka wants her class to get used to running on man-made materials, she’ll set them a roof race. The old one is mostly rock, earth and wood: some parts of it are rumored to date to the Shodaime, though Iruka knows the Academy wasn’t founded until after he died.

“The old one,” she says, “but I usually alter it some: they know what it looks like now.” Hanabi will know what it looks like no matter what she does, but Iruka can live with that: she’ll have the same advantage on missions, after all. It’ll do her some good to get used to using it in a less familiar environment.

“Hm.” Tenzo looks at her for a minute, and then he grins. “Want to run them through a _moving_ course?”

Iruka blinks, and realizes what he’s offering.

“That,” she breathes, imagining it, “that would be fantastic.”

* * *

The next morning is bright and clear, and while part of Iruka wishes it were raining, that can wait until next time. For now her students are going to have enough of a surprise.

They’ve done survival exercises before, and Iruka’s pleased to see that most of the students have shown up with backpacks or full pockets or, in one case, a bright red Cloud-style vest worn over only one shoulder. (There are strict laws in Konoha about replicating chuunin vests: this one is acceptable in both color and style, and Iruka makes a note to compliment the student’s mother.)

“All right,” she calls to the class, “line up: we’re going out to the old obstacle course.” There are a couple of high-fives, and a flurry of whispers, which Iruka appears to ignore.

The course is visibly unchanged, but Iruka can feel Tenzo’s chakra a little ways away, damped down enough that most of the kids won’t be able to tell that he’s there. Hanabi focuses hard, veins bulging around her eyes, and appears to see _something_ in that direction. When she glances up in surprise Iruka puts one finger to her lips, and shakes her head: don’t tell anyone.

“All right!” Iruka calls, “Don’t intentionally injure your classmates, don’t leave the marked area. Those are the only rules.”

Iruka pulls out a stopwatch, and counts down: some of the kids tense up, getting ready to fling themselves forward the instant she lets them start and she makes a note of who they are. When she calls the start, Iruka pops a clone up (just a normal one: Naruto may be able to make shadow clones all day long, but Iruka’s not made of chakra the way he is) and leaves it to watch the front end of the course, while she transports herself into place at the far end.

The course stays still until all of the class has entered. Then the ground shoots up on three sides of it, trapping the kids in a horse-shoe of earth with only one exit. Iruka notices that there’s just enough space on one side for a kid to climb the wall and run along the top without crossing out of bounds: she wonders if any of her students will also notice.

Tenzo (or a clone: she has a hard time with wood clones, which she’ll hopefully get better at) slides up from the earth next to her.

“How hard do you want to push them?”

Iruka looks across the course, and notices that the terrain has gotten a bit more treacherous since she came out here this morning: nothing too dangerous, but enough to teach incautious students to be wary of seemingly-perfect grass or ‘small’ dips and rabbit-holes.

“How much can you individualise it?” Iruka had assumed that just keeping parts of the course moving would take all of his attention, but apparently that’s not the case. She looks at the rocking, swaying lattice over a “pit,” at the various bits of the ground that appear to be trembling in a perpetual earthquake.

“A good bit more,” he says. “I have the day off.” Iruka nods, and wonders a bit to herself: is he really offering to wear himself out animating an obstacle course for her? But why else would his working tonight matter, if that’s not what he meant? Iruka feels a little thrown by the implication that this is more than just a morning’s entertainment for him.

“Iruka-sensei?” he asks. She blinks, and focuses on the course. Several students have already learned about grass growing on top of marsh-mud the hard way: they’re all grey-black mud from the waist or the knee down. A few have fallen and acquired some scrapes and bruises, but nothing she needs to worry about.

“Well,” Iruka says, gathering her thoughts. “Konohamaru and Moegi and Udon,” she points them out “will go through as a team. So, if you could toss them a couple of things to divide them up, but also something that it’ll take the three of them together to get out of: I want to encourage teamwork.” He nods.

“Hyuuga Hanabi will go through on her own, given the chance. She’s a little proud: I’d rather she learned to accept help here than out in the field.” Tenzo looks sharply at her at that, and Iruka points her out, though she needn’t, really: Hanabi is recognisably a Hyuuga, after all. Iruka outlines a few other students for a little extra challenge, a couple who could use a bit of a knocking-down to chip at their top-of-the-class arrogance.

Finally she points out two students who are still close to the beginning, still, making their way very, very cautiously. “Their problem is self-confidence,” she says. “So don’t go easy on them, but don’t toss them anything extra, either. They tend to freeze up. Maybe crumble a bit of the wall near them once they’ve gotten a bit further, encourage them to think of climbing it? I want them to learn to think around their problems, but I don’t want them to feel like they’re running away.”

Tenzo’s hands have been fluttering from one seal to the next the whole time Iruka has been talking, and she sees roots emerge from the walls to grasp at students, a pit open just before a boy who wasn’t looking at the ground ahead of him, a plank wrap around the waist of a student about to fall from too high a height. The whole course appears to be swaying slightly, and Iruka allows herself to just stare at it for a moment, amazed at the level of control this kind of display requires. She swallows, mouth gone a bit dry. Tenzo may only be doing this because Kakashi asked him to, but he’s still listening to her, letting Iruka guide his actions.

After fifteen minutes, none of the students have emerged, though several are close. Iruka leans closer to Tenzo and murmurs, “I don’t know how much longer they’ll take: maybe pause things for a moment to confuse them?” She can, after all, see the look of effort on his face, even if his hitae-ate cleverly hides anywhere sweat might be beading on his forehead or temples.

He lowers his hands to his sides and Iruka sees his lips quirk up in a smile as a couple of kids shout in surprise. She shakes her head: she’ll have to train them out of that. That kind of noise could get them killed in the future. They watch the kids muddle through the course, and Iruka points out particular students strengths and weaknesses, making sure she’ll remember which of them adjusted in which ways. After a couple of minutes, Tenzo turns to look at her.

“You’ll just remember all of that?” he asks. Iruka’s back would go up, but he sounds genuinely curious, not surprised or disbelieving.

“Well,” she says, “yes. I can’t exactly be holding a clipboard and a pencil most of the time, can I?” He shakes his head.

“My sensei--” he pauses, then corrects himself, “no, our sensei -- he did that all the time.” Iruka feels a little fluttering in her chest: he remembers that he was in her class, before he graduated early.

“It’s not practical,” Iruka says, “and besides, this is easier than keeping track of pages and pages of notes.” He shakes his head.

Then he raises his hands to a seal-forming position again and grins at her.

“Want to surprise them?” he asks, and Iruka grins right back and nods, her inner prankster surfacing for a moment, overwhelming her more sober, teacherly instincts.

All of a sudden, the sky falls down, bucketing rain just above the obstacle course, and the students _shriek_ in surprise.

The course starts moving again, and Iruka watches as some students adjust faster than others to the changed conditions, the more slippery wood, the muddier ground. One of the two in the rear, she can see, is climbing her way up the left-hand wall, up to the strip of grass at the top that’s well within the course’s limits. The downpour seems to have actually helped her, revealing roots and washing away softer dirt to reveal foot and hand-holds.

Konohamaru’s group is not the first to finish, though they are close. Iruka nods, pleased, when they get past the last serious obstacles: Moegi managed a substitution jutsu to get herself out of entangling roots and Udon actually helped _Konohamaru_ out of a tight spot, which has him beaming. But when he and his friends come to the end of the course, Konohamaru’s jaw drops, and he looks from Tenzo to Iruka and back again, clearly astonished.

“ANBU-taichou!” Konohamaru exclaims, and then he drags Moegi and Udon away for a hasty discussion with much pointing and waving of hands. Tenzo flashes her a smile, and a moment later the students still on the course get drenched again, and the ground stops moving.

“I was one of the Sandaime’s guards for a time,” he says quietly, “and Konohamaru noticed me using a wood jutsu once. He can be surprisingly perceptive.” Iruka nods, feeling a bit thrown. She’d known he was in ANBU: she shouldn’t be surprised that he’s a captain and on the Hokage’s personal guard roster.

Konohamaru doesn’t come back over, instead choosing to join his other classmates watching those still running the obstacle course. But Iruka can feel him watching her, looking back and forth between her and Tenzo, visibly putting pieces together. Iruka is pretty sure this has jumped her up a rung or two in his estimation. She knew the Sandaime, which was enough for many adults to take her seriously, but as far as Konohamaru was concerned, _everyone_ knew his grandfather, and, besides, she was his teacher. That she knows Tenzo, though, is clearly unexpected. Iruka lets this sink in: she’s known that her association with Kakashi and Tenzo will be noticed. It hadn’t really occurred to her, though, that it would make people think of _her_ differently.

Tenzo lets the slower kids make a little more progress before setting the whole frame rocking again, though he’s a little more gentle about it this time, and he doesn’t drench them quite as hard. Tenzo actually asks her questions about some of the kids this time around. One tries to use a punishing family jutsu he hasn’t quite mastered, and Iruka has to fight the urge to go pick him up and put him back on his feet: Tenzo frowns, and the ground the boy lands on appears to be softer than the surrounding dirt. She smiles at him in thanks.

The last student staggers out of the obstacle course an hour and eight minutes after Iruka blew the whistle, covered head-to-toe in mud. Iruka’s definitely getting parental complaints about this, but she doesn’t care: her students are visibly learning. Hanabi even stopped two thirds of the way through to help a classmate out of a trap, and doesn’t seem to begrudge it, even though it probably lost her time. The girl who climbed the wall finished far earlier than many of her classmates, and she’s grinning widely and immaculate compared to many of her classmates who went _through_ the course instead of around it.

Iruka looks over her students, many of whom are grinning, most of whom are absolutely _covered_ in mud. She claps her hands for attention, and they fall silent.

“First of all,” she says, “everyone thank--” she realizes she doesn’t know if he uses this name publicly, and covers her slip quickly “--our obstacle-course animator!” There’s a chorus of thank yous of varying levels of politeness, and Iruka watches Tenzo out of the corner of her eye.

“Very well done,” she says, and she sees a few students stand up a little straighter. “We’ll go over individual bits of it tomorrow: for now, class is dismissed.”

They scamper away, yelling or discussing things with classmates or obviously lost in thought, and Iruka allows herself a grin. Once they’re all out of sight, she drops heavily to the grass and allows the clone to dissipate. Tenzo drops down next to her, and sweeps a hand through his hair.

“Fast learners,” he says. Iruka smiles.

“They have to be,” she replies. “Otherwise they don’t graduate.” They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Iruka notices that Tenzo is still breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” she says. She wants to say something else, something about how much she appreciates his going to all this trouble, but she’s not sure how to phrase it without it sounding like she’s fishing for compliments.

Finally she grabs his hands and pulls the both of them to their feet.

“How about lunch?” Iruka asks, and Tenzo looks surprised for a moment: then he smiles and suggests Ichiraku, and Iruka can’t stop herself from grinning. This might just work, even when Kakashi’s not around.

* * *

Iruka isn’t quite sure how she’s going to fit all her prep work and grading in, with having people to go visit or spar with or cook for after school nearly every day. Not to mention all the shifts she’s signed up for on the mission desk. Still, other people seem to manage it.

And Iruka can remember a time not so long ago when she and Mizuki would go out after school, or get together with friends: since Mizuki’s betrayal, Iruka has been a bit of a shut-in. At first it was because she was recovering, and getting through a school-day was all she could handle before collapsing on her stomach and trying to ignore how her back throbbed. And then it was habit to go straight home and throw herself into her work, and no one really pushed hard enough to get her to give up the extra shifts she’d adopted to keep herself busy.

Well, Iruka thinks to herself, at least Tsunade won’t be able to yell at her for swapping a few shifts around: it’s not exactly Iruka’s fault she has a busier schedule, after all.

* * *

Two weeks later, Iruka finds herself in the Hokage’s office again, sitting beside Kakashi and facing Tsunade and Shizune over the Hokage’s desk. She’s got a little bit of a better idea of what Kakashi and Tenzo are like when they’re not working, she supposes. She still wouldn’t say she knows either of them _well_ , but she’s pretty sure they’ll continue to get along, if they all put in the effort.

“You’ve already looked over the papers for joint custody,” Tsunade says, “and the medical details are fairly straightforward. In-vitro fertilization is a simple enough procedure, and a little chakra-tweaking can ensure that the embryo attaches properly to the womb. Iruka, you’ll have our full medical support, and check-ups every four weeks to monitor your health and that of the baby.” Shizune frowns, leans over and whispers in her ear.

“All right, all right,” Tsunade says sourly, waving a hand at Shizune. “Iruka,” she says, facing Iruka directly, “how do you feel about twins?”

Iruka blinks.

“Um,” she says, feeling a little blindsided, “in the abstract, Hokage-sama? Or —“ Out of the corner of her eye Iruka can see Kakashi staring at Tsunade: she looks half-shocked and half-furious. Tenzo seems to be very carefully _not_ reacting: he might as well be wearing a mask, for all the expression he’s allowing on his face.

“They do run in your family,” Tsunade adds, somewhat obscurely, turning to face Kakashi. “It’s not as if it would put her in any particular medical danger, Kakashi.” Iruka puts it all together.

“Wait,” she says, “twins?” This can’t be happening: isn’t one child enough? No, Iruka realizes, one child wouldn’t be enough at all, not from Kakashi. Tsunade gooses Shizune, who tries (and fails) to conceal both her _eeeep!_ of surprise and her subsequent glare. Tonton squeaks indignantly in Shizune’s arms.

“It’s just as easy to do two as one, from the medical end of things.” Shizune pauses. “More than two would also be possible, but with triplets or quadruplets you start running into much higher chances of premature births and complications.”

“So,” Tsunade says, tipping her hands in a “ta-da!” gesture, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Twins!”

Iruka is pretty sure she’s staring. Some people claim that Tsunade has a naturally confusing aura, that something about her makes people think less clearly — Iruka’s always been pretty sure that was just her boobs distracting people. But right now she’s not so sure: this whole conversation seems to have left her behind several twists and turns ago. She seizes on the point that makes least sense.

“But,” she protests, “– wait. Twins?”

 _Wow,_ she thinks, _articulate, today, aren’t we?_

“Tsunade!” Kakashi finally says, and though her voice is quiet, everyone turns to look at her — even Tonton. “You didn’t say _anything_ about this.”

“Oh, no.” Shizune replies, “it was my idea.” It’s easy, Iruka thinks, to forget Shizune is a jounin, considering how she flails around after Tsunade most of the time. Watching her stare down Kakashi is a pretty good reminder.

Tenzo puts a hand on Kakashi’s thigh, and Iruka watches her consciously relax.

“For one thing,” Shizune continues, after Kakashi leans back in her chair with obviously affected nonchalance, “it’s more efficient.” She looks at Kakashi. “You know the council won’t be satisfied with only one child.” She looks at Tenzo. “From either of you.” Iruka blinks: it hadn’t really occurred to her, but of course they’d want Tenzo to have kids, too, just in case his kekkei genkai is something he could pass on.

“And--” Iruka shakes her head and focuses back on Shizune, who catches Iruka’s eye, “it would be a slightly more difficult pregnancy, especially in the third trimester, but you’d have our full support, of course, and it would almost certainly be less of an intrusion and have fewer long-term effects than two pregnancies directly back-to-back would be.”

Iruka stares. She’d expected a slightly odd conversation, but this is above and beyond.

Kakashi puts a hand on her shoulder and leans in to whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to --” But Iruka can feel the tension humming through Kakashi’s frame and somehow she knows that Kakashi is convinced she’s going to back out now that the stakes have been raised like this. Iruka looks over and catches Tenzo’s eye, and he nods, his eyes flicking to Kakashi and back to her. _Your decision._

Iruka looks back at Kakashi and she can actually _see_ how worried Kakashi is that Iruka will say no.

It’s probably not the best reason in the world, but Iruka has always been stubborn. So she looks Tsunade in the eye and says, “If I have to stop teaching early, you’d better find me a damn good substitute, not just whichever new chuunin you feel like harassing.” Tsunade cracks a grin.

And Kakashi’s quiet exhalation next to her is almost thanks enough.

* * *

“So,” Iruka says, as the three of them walk out of the Hokage’s office again, just as quiet as the last time, despite having spent so much time together in the last two weeks. “Twins.”

Kakashi says nothing, just shrugs a little bit and keeps walking, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Tenzo moves around to Iruka’s other side, so that she’s walking between the two of them: it makes Kakashi look a little less boxed-in.

“I used to wish I had a twin, sometimes,” Iruka says. Kakashi looks over at her, curious. “Tsunade did say they ran in my family,” Iruka continues, “so it’s not like it’s a totally foreign idea.” She’d wanted siblings from time to time when she saw other kids playing together, but it wasn’t really uncommon for shinobi parents to have only one child during the war, or only one young child at a time: it hadn’t been impossible to imagine her parents having another child in a year or two, when she was small, though an eleven year age gap was a bit more than usual.

Iruka is a little nervous about the idea of twins, but she’s also intrigued. Will she feel twice as much movement, once the babies start to move on their own?

Kakashi just looks at her, and Iruka looks back, a bit worried that Kakashi will call things off: she realizes, with a pang, that she _wants_ this, even if it’s two babies at once, instead of one at a time.

“Is this really all right?” Kakashi asks, “I mean, I know Tsunade came off a bit heavy-handed just now, but I could talk her around: you didn’t agree to –“

Iruka puts her hand on Kakashi’s elbow, tugs her to a standstill. Tenzo pauses beside her. “Kakashi,” she says, “do you know what I was thinking about, when I invited you over for dinner, that first time?” Kakashi shakes her head.

“I thought –“ Iruka swallows, because admitting this is hard, even now, maybe even more so with Tenzo here with them to hear her. “I thought, maybe even if I’m only a glorified babysitter – maybe they’ll still be in my class at the Academy. _They_ , Kakashi.” She pauses before continuing: this is something she hasn’t told anyone in years. “I’ve always wanted more than one: this just speeds things up a bit.”

Kakashi stares at her silently. Iruka bites her lip, wondering if she’s presumed too much, until Kakashi reels her in and slowly, almost carefully, embraces her.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Kakashi breathes, and Iruka just relaxes into her arms, feeling Kakashi’s breath whisper through her hair. Iruka wiggles a hand behind her back, and Tenzo steps over and puts his arms around the two of them tentatively. She supposes they might look odd, three shinobi standing stock-still and hugging in the middle of the street. Still, it feels surprisingly natural and Iruka begins to let herself hope that they might work out into a _family_ , not just a sort of odd joint-custody-arrangement.

“All right,” Iruka says after a moment, pulling back slightly: Kakashi lets her go. “I want dinner.” Kakashi smiles, and she and Tenzo take the hands Iruka extends.

* * *

  
  
  


End file.
